


Sometimes

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Background Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Team, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Team as Family, Teamwork, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Everybody has bad days, and sometimes, people have worse days. But thankfully, the 126 has each other, and they can turn even the worst of days into better ones. Sometimes, you learn that the hard way.
Relationships: Judd Ryder & TK Strand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never watched 911, either the original or Lone Star, but I really want to??? I watched my first episode of 911 like, two days ago, and it was towards the end of season 3, so I'm not sure if it counts. But I... adore Lone Star (at least what I've seen on Youtube/Tumblr) and I just couldn't stop myself from writing something. I love TK very god damn much but... I think Judd has stolen my heart?? Poor guy?? He's so tough but... he's so gentle?? I want to hug him. But because I can't hug him, I'm going to make other characters from the show hug him, to make up for it. Anyway, I'm sorry if there's some stuff that I got wrong or stereotyped or anything, I actually tried really hard on this and I just hope I did these characters justice. Thanks in advance, I hope you like it xx

Sometimes, TK felt like his veins were burning, like lava instead of blood, and like his skin was bubbling and blistering like someone too close to the sun. Too tight. Too much. Overwhelming.

He saw people in alleyways, sometimes. Dressed in dark colours and over-sized clothes, passing money and small packages back and forth under the cover of darkness, where nobody can see them, or maybe nobody cares. TK cares, and it takes everything in his power to steer clear.

He’d gotten better over the months since the move to Austin. Much better. At least, he hoped he’d gotten better. He liked to think he had. Everyone said he had, anyway. He didn’t think they were lying to him.

But sometimes, he still felt it. He missed it. The way it made him feel, sometimes, like a hole in his chest that he couldn’t fill with other things. Like something had leached out of him and he was constantly trying to find it again. Or something of the approximate. Never finding the same, or the right, thing.

Carlos was a huge help. Not only was his occupation a good deterrent in itself but just his presence, his company, filled the hole within TK just a little bit more. It was the first time he had finally felt loved, and like he _deserved_ to feel love. It made him realize with startling clarity, when he was wrapped in the warm embrace of Carlos’s arms on the couch after a long day of work, feeling safe and comfortable and secure, that Alex had never really loved him. Probably never had, even before he had fallen for the spin instructor. After Alex, TK hadn’t really felt much of anything. Maybe that was why he had overdosed in his bathroom. To fill that freshly opened hole with something new. Something permanent. Something familiar.

But Austin was new, and it gave him something to obsess over that wasn’t the familiar sting-tingle-warmth of a drug. The new team, the new home, the new living arrangements, the new city. The new dog. The new diagnosis. Everything was just so _new_ that TK couldn’t think about it for long.

Therapy didn’t help as much as he told his dad it did, but he still went anyway, if only to reassure him that he would still stick with the tough-love program. But TK hadn’t realized how much he missed his dad until he had moved back in with him. His advice, his kindness, his hugs and hot chocolate. Even his little touches, and the sound of his voice on a bad day. It made him feel so much better. Grounded him, even, like a stone tied to a balloon, refusing to let it drift off until everything becomes unrecognizable.

But sometimes, Carlos wasn’t enough. His dad wasn’t enough. The team wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough, and he felt it again, that need, that burning craving that seemed to stem from his bones, his veins, the very fabric of his being. 

He was doing much better, but he still had bad days

Bad days meant seclusion, and hiding away until it was absolutely necessary, and hoping that nobody bothered him. Sometimes, the bad days snuck up on him, and it was like he was stuck in a tunnel, with all the sound too dull and all the lights too bright and all he could do was hope that it passed.

It was hard to feel much of anything, these days. It was no longer just about trying to ignore the siren song of the drugs found in the hidden nooks and crannies of the Austin streets, but it became trying to feel something, anything at all, anything other than the grey expanse of nothingness that had consumed him for so long. The drugs had given him colour. Being off them gave him shadows. 

Maybe getting into pub brawls and starting fights in the streets wasn’t the best way to handle it, but Firefighting wasn’t enough. It used to be, but it wasn’t anymore. Maybe it was the move, or maybe it was something else entirely, but it had to be _something_.

Sometimes, TK didn’t know who he was anymore. He couldn’t remember a time before the craving.

When Carlos wasn’t there, when his dad wasn’t there, when TK was alone with nothing but his thoughts and the cravings, it consumed him.

Everything got too slow like he was swimming through a pool of thick molasses. It was always harder to fight it than it was to let it take him, to sink to the bottom and rest. Everything got too much like he could feel the very tightness of his face, or every strand of hair on his head, and the weight of his tongue in his mouth. The opposite of the drugs. Now, TK felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin, terrible, nasty things that clawed and chewed and gnawed at his flesh and bones and veins and-

“Hey,” a heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and TK looked up from where he had his head stuck inside the cavity of the truck. “You good?”

When TK blinked the fog from his eyes, he was surprised to find Judd there, looking down at him with concern, his hand almost too heavy on his shoulder. “Uh, yeah,” TK cleared his throat. “I uh, just got lost in thought for a little bit. Sorry. All good.”

Though Judd didn’t look convinced, he nodded. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I have?” TK asked. He hadn’t realized. “My bad, then. I guess I’ve just got a lot going on.”

Judd hummed as he took his hand off TK’s shoulder and leant against the side of the truck with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Marjan and Paul obsess over a very happy Buttercup. “How’s your boy doing? The officer?”

That took TK aback a little. He had never heard Carlos referred to as ‘his boy’ and he never would have expected those words to come from Judd of all people. But it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and the fog inside his head was pushed a little further to the outskirts of his vision. “Yeah, he’s good. I haven’t seen him much lately, with the spike in crime and all, but I spoke to him this morning. He’s going to pick me up tomorrow after shift and we’re going to go out.”

“Good to hear,” Judd said as he turned his attention back to TK. He frowned as his eyes caught sight of something, and he reached up to pick TK’s hand up from where it was resting at his side. His knuckles were still scabbed and bruised from where he had lost his patience and started a fight with a brick wall. He had called it a draw. “Woah, the hell is this from?"

TK took his hand out of Judd’s who was looking at him with an unreadable expression and stuck both of them in his hoodie pocket. “Ah, it’s nothing. Had a bad day, that’s all. Don’t stress.”

But Judd was still looking him over with that unreadable expression, and TK had never been an overly timid person, but he wanted to slink away and hide so Judd would just stop looking at him like that. “You OK, kid? I mean, like, really?”

“Ah,” Not even TK knew what to say to that. Was he? Yes? No? Maybe? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t thought about it very much, had tried very hard not to. “Yeah?”

Judd didn’t seem like he believed him, but he let it go regardless. “Alright then,” he said as he put a huge hand on TK’s head and ruffled his hair. TK scrunched his face up but didn’t protest. “Head in the game, kid, come on. We’ve got work to do.”

Even though Judd hadn’t removed his hand yet, TK found himself nodding. “Uh, actually? Thanks.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Just thanks. It’s… been a bad few days, that’s all. So thanks.”

Confused, Judd looked at him again, before he nodded and stepped back, seeming to understand. He glanced between TK’s somewhat wild-looking eyes, his scabbed hands tucked away in his pockets and the expression on his face, and connected the dots for himself, even though TK wasn’t about to admit it. But Judd wasn’t stupid. He knew what bad days meant for TK. “Ah,” he said. “Right. You’re good now though?”

“Much better,” TK said as he grabbed the things he was sent to get from the truck and threw the bag over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

As TK turned to walk away, Judd reached out again and grabbed him by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks, and TK turned partially to face him, eyebrows raised. Judd wasn’t the best at this sort of stuff, and he wasn’t quite sure how to say it now that he had set his mind to it, but now that he had started, he couldn’t very well stop. “You ever need me, you know how to find me, right? I mean it. For anything.”

TK looked at him closely for a moment, as if unsure that he was serious before he settled back and came to a conclusion. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Thanks, Judd.”

Judd let him go and watched attentively until he moved out of sight, and TK walked away with his head feeling a little bit clearer, his heart a little bit lighter and the hole in his soul a little bit fuller.

* * *

Sometimes, Judd felt like the whole world was falling in all around him and that his whole world was imploding, and he hated himself for it.

He knew the words for what was wrong with him. That wasn’t the problem. Knowing wasn’t the problem. Understanding wasn’t the problem. Accepting, and dealing, and coping, that was the problem. He was supposed to be strong. For Grace. For the 126. For the team. How could he be strong when he was too busy trying to cope with an illness he couldn’t even see? How could he fight it if he didn’t even have proof that it existed except for those moments that filled him with existential dread? How could he protect those he loved if he can’t even figure out how to live a normal life without avoiding everything he could that might set him off?

PSTD was a fickle thing. Some days, he felt on top of the world, like he could accomplish anything and everything. Other days, he couldn’t go through a few minutes without remembering, without finding something that reminded him of that day. The feeling of flames licking against his skin, the sting of debris that hit him, the sound of his brothers screaming and the silos exploding, the-

Sometimes, everything set it off. Whether it be the sound of a backfiring car or fireworks or the hissing of a pipe or the very sight of fire, the thing that he had moulded his whole life around, made him think of that night. Sometimes, he could still feel it. The heat. The burning. The screaming, _his_ screaming, though he couldn’t hear it, only feel the harshness in his throat and the pain in his chest, the way the blood pooled out from under the rubble when everything had settled, Grace’s panicked, terrified voice, screaming his name in his ear from the radio-

Grace was a godsend during those first six months, she really was. He probably wouldn’t have been able to make it through without her. She was the only reason that he had managed to return to the firehouse, and with her help, he was finally able to bring himself to attend those therapy sessions he hated so much. Though he probably should also thank Owen for that, and the memorial that he had made for Judd’s fallen brothers on the firehouse wall and his prompting to attend therapy, with the promise that his position would be there waiting for him if he ever decided to return to the 126. 

But sometimes... sometimes it all just got too much. 

Owen had told him that the monster was coming out of its cage whether Judd admitted it or not, and Judd hated it more than anything else, but he knew that Owen was right. He just hoped that it didn’t come out on a call, or in front of the team. 

He never had been so lucky.

It was supposed to be so simple. A simple job. But, then again, Judd had learned that sometimes the simplest things had the most devastating effects.

He had watched as Mateo rushed into the burning building as he was ordered, and he watched as the flames grew and grew until the building was obscured by crackling flame and thick smoke, and then Mateo’s voice came over the radio a few minutes later, panicking about being lost, not being able to read the signs to find the exit, and Marjan and Paul rushed in to retrieve him.

And suddenly, Judd just… he lost it. He did.

Watching all three of them disappear into the smoke made something familiar and dark ignite within him and suddenly it was like he was drowning. Pain bloomed behind his eyelids as the flames seemed to brighten, like millions of daggers stabbing right into his brain. His chest felt tight, and suddenly, Judd couldn’t breathe, couldn’t draw air into his lungs. All he could see was the silos, and he searched the smoke for Paul and Marjan and Mateo, and couldn’t find either of them. 

There were still casualties within the building, still people who needed to be saved, and as Judd felt other firefighters push past him to charge at the flames, he realized that he wasn’t going to be much use and that if he wasn’t helping he was just in the way, and he stumbled backwards until he was around the other side of the truck, and he leant his whole weight against the cool metal.

Before he knew it, he was sinking to the ground and dropping his head to his hands, his boots digging into the dirt as if trying to find some sort of support to ground him, like a plant reaching out its roots, and his vision darkened. He panted as he tried to blink the spots out of his eyes, but his lungs burned and his cheeks were wet and for a few, panicked seconds he wasn’t sure if it was blood or tears, and his body ached from unseen pain and his ears were ringing and-

Two heavy hands landed on his shoulders, gloved in heavy leathers and cold buckles, and manhandled him up off of the hard ground, dragging him away from the calls of the firefighters and the crackling of the flames. One hand moved from his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles into his back, hard enough to be felt through the thick jacket, yet gentle enough that Judd didn’t feel the urge to push them away.

“Judd? Judd? Come on man, this way. That’s it, buddy, just breathe, you’re alright.”

It took a long time until Judd was able to get air into his lungs, and when it happened he felt like some sort of weight had just been lifted from his shoulders, and he gasped as he kneeled over to brace himself on the truck, his knees digging into the dirt. The hands were still there, running fingers through his hair and pressing a palm in a circular motion on his back, and if Judd had been in his right mind, he would have pushed them away and gotten mad at them for daring to touch him like that when he obviously didn't want it. But he felt like he just ran a marathon with weighted shoes, and all he could do was breathe. He hadn’t realized that he was leaning all his weight on their legs, and he pushed away now to sit on his own.

When he looked up, his vision clear and his breathing mostly even, Judd was surprised to see TK, holding Judd up with one hand and looking down at him with a concerned expression, eyes occasionally darting up to glance at the fire, but stayed mostly locked on Judd. “TK?” Judd choked out, surprised and confused. 

“Yeah bud, you’re alright,” TK said, squeezing his shoulder. “The fire’s almost out. All civilians are safe. We’re almost done here.”

“Marjan? Paul and Probie?” Judd wheezed as he tried to get up, but he couldn’t find anything to hold onto, and he ended up slipping back into the dirt. “Are they…?”

He left the question open-ended, partially because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, and partially because he couldn’t summon the air to speak. TK watched him struggle, and he hooked his hands under Judd’s armpits and hoisted him to his feel. “They’re alright, Judd,” TK assured, and Judd felt like he was going to collapse all over again. “Mateo’s a little scratched up, but they weren’t in there for long. He wasn’t as lost as he thought he was. He was three hallways away from the exit, so all they had to do was find him and guide him out.”

“Good,” Judd panted as he looked out over the firehouse. They were just putting out the last of the flames. Owen was patting Mateo on back, while Marjan and Paul checked out the victims, laughing to themselves all the while. “Good.”

TK was still looking at him with that terrified, concerned expression, and he ran his hand up and down Judd’s arm. Judd was leaning heavily against the truck and was looking everywhere he could to make sure he didn’t have to catch TK’s gaze. “Judd, are you alright? That was… I was really worried back there. Are you good?”

“Yeah kid,” Judd waved him off, and he was glad to realize that he meant it. His legs were stronger. His vision was clear. His breathing was steady. “I’m good. I uh… I just lost myself for a while there, that’s all. I’m good now, though.”

Though TK still didn’t look convinced, he certainly looked reassured, and his tight hold loosened a little bit on Judd’s sleeve. “Alright. Well, uh, if you need me, just shout, OK? I’m going to go help da- the Captain with the cleanup. But you stay here. Stay here until you’re feeling up to going out. No rush. Just… take your time.”

“Thanks,” Judd couldn’t help but laugh. Of all the people on the team, he hadn’t been expecting to have this conversation with TK. “You really got me out of a sticky situation back there. If you hadn’t been there for me, I uh… I don’t want to think about what could have happened. To me, I mean. It uh… it usually gets worse before it gets better, and being alone in the middle of a firefight like that...”

TK looked like he understood, and he punched Judd in the shoulder with all the strength of a feather-duster. “Don’t sweat it. We’re a team, right? Got to help each other out where we can."

The last thing Judd saw of him was his cheeky grin before he turned around and jogged back to his dad, and Judd was watching the back of his head. It was only when TK was out of sight that Judd let himself break down a little bit, but it wasn’t as bad as it normally was, and for some reason, his heart felt a little bit fuller.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I should mention, I'm from Australia, and I know nothing about Texas/Austin except that they wear cowboy hats and have a drawl and liked fried chicken and guns and that Austin is one of the better states in terms of inclusivity and gay people and that?? So please don't skin me if I get some of this stuff wrong.
> 
> Also, in case you were wondering, it was the conversation between Judd and TK in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGBEGQjRcwI (at 1:40) was what inspired this fic. I find it easier to go through these kinds of videos than it is to search for specific scenes because more often than not, it shows a very vast majority of the show that I probably wouldn't have seen otherwise in short clips. Anyway, I hope that you like it xxx


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